Letters to Mine Enemy
by FrostedMidnight
Summary: What does one do when forbidden to write to one's friends? Why, write to thier enemies instead of course.
1. Chapter 1

Voldemort stared in surprise at the snowy owl perched beside his chair. How the thing had managed to make it through the wards was beyond him.

The owl, which looked rather haggard, held out its foot impatiently, waiting for him to take the offered letter. After quickly scanning it for curses (one can never be too careful) He accepted the rather crinkled looking letter. He tore open the seal and began to read:

_To My Snake-faced Stalker,_

_How has your summer been? Filled with nefarious plotting and infinitely more interesting things than mine, I'm sure. Dumbledore, in an effort to keep my location a secret from evil ole you, told me I wasn't allowed to write any of my friends this summer, nor were they allowed to write me. I'm not even allowed to contact him._

_So, in an effort to stave off the boredom and the hunger pangs, I'm contacting the one person that he didn't say no to. That's right. You. _

_Obviously, he didn't believe I would be mental enough to contact you, so he didn't put you on the list of No No's. Serves him right if you were to use this letter to track me down and finish me off in my sleep. Of course, I wouldn't be sending the letter in the first place if I believed that you didn't know where I was. Then again, at this point, death at your hands looks infinitely better than starvation. _

_Speaking of starvation, how do you eat with that creepy forked tongue thing you've got going on? And how did you get your eyes that particular shade of red? I've experimented with a few charms, but it just doesn't look the same._

_Ahh, forgive me, I ramble. Oh, and I do believe I hear my aunt bellowing for me to come fix dinner for her walruses she refers to as husband and son. I suppose that's all for now, I don't even know if this letter will make through your no doubt extensive wards, but it staved off insanity for another day anyway. I'll write again I suppose, not that you'll read it most likely. Someone who sticks himself to the back of the head of someone like Quirrel can't have much taste in postal acceptance. Then again, maybe that means you aren't that picky...hmm...bloody hell, I've gotta go or they're not going to feed me again...how long can one go without food anyway...I thought it was two weeks...but apparently I'm wrong._

_Sincerely,_

_The Boy Who Lived (in infinite boredom and malnutrition)_

_P.S...how do you keep bugs from flying up your nose when your nostrils are all big and slitty like that?_

A wave of anger rolled over him, but then, in spite of himself, Voldemort chuckled slightly. The child had a wicked sense of humor, he had to admit. But the letter's contents bothered him. It seemed his young nemesis was starving, and he couldn't have that. After all, he had to be the one to finish him off, not eventual starvation. Tapping a quill against his lips thoughtfully, Voldemort grinned and began to write.

* * *

Voldemort was once again startled by the appearance of the same blasted snowy owl perched by his chair. It was once again bearing a letter, and once it realized it had been noticed, immediately held it's foot out for him to take it. He did so, only bothering with a cursory scan beforehand. Opening the seal, he began to read:

_Dearest Moldyshorts,_

_I regretfully must thank you most sincerely for the care package that you sent to me. Without it, I doubt I would have been able to write this letter, although I resent being called the small one with horn-rimmed glasses._

_It's good to know you no longer retain your snakelike appearance. That would be bothersome when attempting to disguise ones self in public, I'm sure. _

_In response to your inquiry, I don't know if Dumbledore is aware of my situation here. I haven't informed him specifically, only told him that I was very unhappy here and that my relatives hate me. Honestly, I really don't want to know if he knows or not. Because, If he does and he has sent me back anyway, then he is almost as bad, or even worse than you (depending on his reasons). And, If he doesn't know..then at the least he is impossibly stupid..and at most he is criminally negligent._

_Thankfully though, I really don't have to worry much more this summer, as school starts in a few days. I can't wait to get away from my relatives again, though I'm not especially looking forward to failing my summer homework. My relatives didn't exactly give me time to work on it.._

_Well, I won't take up anymore of your time, I'm sure you have Deatheaters to harass or muggles to torture, or some other such activity to keep you occupied._

_Until next time,_

_The Boy with a sugar high (your fault)_

_P.S. I wouldn't be adverse to keeping up our correspondence while I'm at Hogwarts._

Voldemort shook his head, then grinned. Yes, this was definitely one of the more interesting pieces of mail that he had ever gotten. He picked up his quill and quickly began to scratch across the parchment.

* * *

Voldemort looked in surprise at the letter awaiting him by his bedside table. How in the hell had that bloody owl managed..he would figure it out later. At the moment, he was more interested in finding out what Harry had to say. He tore open the letter and began to read:

_Dearest Snake Snogger,_

_Has Binns ever been interesting? Is there a point to History of Magic, or should we relabel the course 'An Intensely Devoted Study of the Inside of my Eyelids?' Is there a way to inform a ghost that he's already dead? Would Binns even care?_

_Oh, I'm glad you still wanted to correspond over the school year, as Ron, Hermione and I currently aren't speaking. Can you believe they're mad at me for not writing them over the summer? Oh well, that's life, yeah? _

_By the way, did you tell Snape to be more difficult this year, or has he become even more fun to be around for no particular reason? Did you know he wrote a Hufflepuff up for breathing too loudly? The poor kid had an anxiety attack and started to hyperventilate. Ahh, well, gotta go. Homework and all that. _

_I'll write again soon, But until then stay all evil and stuff...On second thought...don't. I would rather not die if its all the same to you. This is where I leave off, before a certain camera toting Griffyndor takes a picture of my letter. We wouldn't want to scare the masses with our correspondence, now would we?_

_Tolerantly Yours,_

_The one chosen (to be picked on by Snape, apparently)_

Oh, the child would pay for that one. Snake snogger indeed. With a vicious smile, Voldemort picked up his quill and began to write.


	2. Chapter 2

Voldemort growled in startled annoyance as the now familiar snowy owl landed in front of him bearing yet another letter. He would almost say the thing looked smugly triumphant at being able to surpass his newly revitalized wards, but he quickly decided that would be giving the infernal animal to much credit. He grudgingly accepted the parchment from the owl, and, frowning at the telltale coppery smudges drying along its edges, he opened the letter and began to read.

_My Dearest Voldersnitzle, _

_Eww eww ewww eewww EWWW!! Was that really necessary? I hope you are pleased with your self, for I am now mentally scarred for the rest of my existence. I solemnly promise never to insinuate that you did anything improper with reptiles ever again...where did you even learn some of those adjectives...can I just say eww, once again. Your poor deatheaters must be tramatized...oh eww...bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Does that mean I can call you Snape-snogger instead? (just kidding, you have more taste than that...I hope..) _

_Well, now that we have covered the revisiting of my mental anguish, I have to inform you of some rather disturbing news. It seems that you don't exist. At least, not according to the creepy ministry goon teaching DADA anyway. Does that mean that I'm talking to myself...or perhaps it makes you my imaginary friend? Well, in any case, it gives the creepy cat-lady an excuse to brand I must not tell lies into the back of my hand with a blood quill, smiling the whole while. I swear that woman is so mentally imbalanced she makes you seem cuddly (In that I'll kill you if you touch me kind of way). At least you don't smile as you kill people... I don't think I've ever been more disturbed by kittens in my entire life. _

_If I didn't know better, I would say that you had rigged our DADA classes so that the war would be easily won on account of the next generation of the light side being complete and totally inept. But I know that isn't the case because, sadly, we've only had two teachers actually capable of teaching that class, one of which was provided by you. Yes, his subject material was mainly dark and disturbing, (and possibly illegal), but it was more useful than anything his predecessor has had to say... Its rather sad really...Dumbledore wants me to save the world...and the class that's supposed to be helping me on my way to victory is currently being taught by a pepto-bismol wearing psychopath that has a kitten fetish. I don't suppose that you could like...kidnap her and replace her with someone who could actually teach? Please? I wouldn't say a word about his nifty tattoo to anyone. Pretty please?_

_At this point, the dark arts would be much more useful...maybe I could get you to teach me some kind of hex to turn Umbridges entire wardrobe black..or even better...have her trade bodies with Snape! Yes, the ultimate punishment for the woman who robbed the world of the color fusha (she is wearing to much of it for there to possibly be any somewhere else) would be being trapped in the colorless existence that is Snapes. But then again, I don't even wish him that amount of torture...not that he would appreciate the sentiment I'm sure..._

_Oh good grief, look how much I've rambled. I'm sure you dozed off somewhere in the midst of this letter, or perchance its already made a happy home in your fireplace. Well, if you managed to make it this far, I thank you for your patience. _

_Mostly sincerely,_

_The Boy who apparently talks to himself_

_P.S. sorry about the blood spatters, all this writing hasn't been beneficial to my hand..bloody blood quill.._

Voldemort stared at the letter for several moments, lost in thought. His face was suddenly encompassed by a wicked grin, and, with a perverse kind of glee, his quill began to fly across the parchment.

* * *

Voldemort emerged from his bedroom only to dive-bombed by a certain snowy owl. He glared at the bird, which appeared to smirking at him, as much as an owl could smirk anyway.Blasted bird had a death wish.One day he would figure out it's secret to invading his wards, and then it would meet its untimely demise.But for now he was distracted by the letter that it bore. With what could only be described as malicious glee, he ripped open the parchment and began to read:

_My Maliciously Mold-infected Murderer to be, _

_FOR THE LOVE OF...YOU TOOK PICTURES OF THAT!? WHY!?What ever possessed you to...and why did **I **have to get them?! I hope you know that I have a photographic memory...those images are trapped up there forever now. Thank you most sincerely for that. Really. That's all I needed to add to my nightmares. _

_Speaking of thanking you...I suppose I owe you again. I'm really not sure who you've polyjuiced to be that woman the past few weeks, but that most certainly can't be the same person. It is polyjuice isn't it? So tell me, oh mighty ruler of the darkness, who did you make dress up in the pink frillies? _

_Oh crap, I have to go, Snape is coming to try and convince me that I need to go home for Christmas(as if), Followed by dearest Dumbledenseness himself. I don't think my correspondence with you will be looked upon with the most enthusiastic of responses if they find out. Then again, that could be interesting...It would be priceless to see something actually shock Snape, and Dumbledore might actually pass out. Nah..potential mental hospitalization isn't worth. _

_Bye for now,_

_The Boy Who Lives To Annoy YOU!_

_P.S. This letter is charmed to become your Christmas present when you're done reading. Hopefully it will provide enough amusement to make the season tolerable. _

Voldemort finished the letter with a shake of his head. As he sat down the piece of parchment, it began to change. Voldemort watched the letter grow and morph with curiosity until his present began to take shape. His eyes widened slightly when he realized just exactly what Dumbledore's Golden Boy had sent him. He tried to repress his gut reaction, but he just couldn't help it. It was really all the Boys fault. Lord Voldemort, feared ruler of darkness, was slumped in his chair with a hand over his mouth, utterly unable to contain the giggles escaping his body.

When he finally composed himself once again,(he had to suppress another giggle fit after glancing at his present again) He reached for his parchment and Quill and began to write. The Potter child was really quite amusing. Perhaps he would keep him around after all...


End file.
